


Cursed Land

by SomewhatSlightlyDazed



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Horror, Maps, Psychological Horror, Walks In The Woods, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhatSlightlyDazed/pseuds/SomewhatSlightlyDazed
Summary: The Sanctuary is in the grips of a bad growing season and the food supplies have begun to dwindle. Before harsh winter conditions set in and their citizens begin to starve, Negan and Rebecca prepare for a final scavenger run.Things begin to get strange when Rebecca notices an area of Negan’s map that has been blacked out, and he refuses to tell her why. Gradually, she becomes more intrigued about what has the seemingly fearless leader of the Sanctuary so scared. Will she find out too late that some fates are worse than death?





	1. Part 1: The Black Box

“So, should I ask the obvious question here?” Rebecca’s green eyes flashed up at Negan from the map that sat between them on the table.

They were in the middle of planning for that evening’s scavenger team meeting, and had been discussing potential excursions for well over an hour. The air in the room had grown stifling, and the young woman was desperate to wrap things up so that she could slink away to their bed for a quick nap before jumping back into the discussion with the rest of the team later. Maybe a change of subject would draw things to a close.

“Hm?” Negan’s gaze remained glued on the map. From his furrowed brow, she could tell that he was lost in thought and hadn’t registered what the head scavenger had asked him.

His focus was understandable as the meeting they were preparing for was to be integral to the community’s long-term survival. The inhabitants of the Sanctuary had just endured a season of harsh growing conditions, leaving them with scant food supplies for the coming winter months, when travel would be nigh on impossible.

With autumn providing them only a few short weeks of safe passage to the surrounding towns and communities, it was vital that they be as strategic as possible. The would have to gather enough supplies to get them through the cold, dark months ahead until they could begin planting again. Lives depended on it.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then…” she paused for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully, “What’s with the black box?”

“Black box?” his eyes finally lifted to meet hers and the expression he wore was one of genuine confusion.

Rebecca poked a section of the map, located in the northwest, which had been covered over by thick, black scribbles in a rectangular pattern. She repeated her question: “What’s with the black box?”

“Well, that’s more of a rectangle, isn’t it Fuckface? I think, by definition, a box has to be in 3D.”

“Smart ass,” she mumbled,” Ok, so what’s with the black geometric shape on the map?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. People don’t just draw giant black boxes over big sections of map for no reason. Plus, if you had been doodling, you and I both know that you would have drawn a cock on here instead. So, why don’t you tell me?”

“Drop it, Rebecca.”

Negan’s voice had lowered to a whisper and the use of her real name instead of the “Fuckface” moniker caused the easy grin to fade from the young woman’s lips. As her gaze lifted back to meet his, she found herself scrutinizing the face of a man who had stared down extreme danger for her on more than one occasion with a smile, only to find his expression now stricken, his skin pale, and his brow covered in perspiration. His eyes had narrowed to slits and he repeated those words quietly: “Drop it.”

Feeling a lump rising in her throat, she persisted, “I don’t see why you can’t just tell me. Is it dangerous? Did something happen there?”

Negan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “You’re not gonna fucking listen to me, are you?”

“Do I ever?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and playful, but a fearful edge had crept into her voice in spite of her best efforts.

He shook his head, “Look. I’m not going to- I  _can’t_  get into it, actually. Just promise me that you’ll never go there. No matter what happens to me now or in the future. You need to promise me, Rebecca. Never fucking go into those woods, ok?”

Rebecca studied his face, looking for signs that he was joking with her, “You’re fucking with me now. Come on, Neegs, you know I hate scary shit, so knock it off! I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“No. I most certainly am not goddam fucking with you right now, Rebecca,” he reached out and took her hand over the map, their extremities dangled over the dark stain on the paper’s upper edge, and Rebecca felt herself shudder and nearly recoil to avoid touching it, “I would tell you more if I could, but I can’t talk about it. It’s not safe, and we’re in a bad enough spot as it is, after the season we just had. Just, please, for the love of fuck do not ever go to that place.”

“You’re scaring me, Negan,” she said weakly, “I-is it the dead? Is that why?”

“No,” he replied solemnly, “All, I’ll say is this: There are worse things out there than fucking walkers. They can kill you and give you a hell of a painful death, but they can’t do anything to you after that. They can’t fuck with your soul.”

Rebecca felt her mouth open and then abruptly shut without saying a word. She had never seen Negan act this way. Nothing ever seemed to faze him. There was no situation too dire for him to quip sarcastically about or make light of. But something about the woods in that part of the map seemed to have him terrified.

“Ok, Negan. I won’t go there. No matter what. I understand.”

She felt his grip on her hand loosen and the air in the room seemed to lighten at her words.

“Good. Now let’s get back to this planning shit, shall we?”

She nodded and let the conversation about potential scavenging targets resume, but her eyes kept wandering back to the black box in the corner of the map. What could have happened in that place that made her fearless leader so afraid that he couldn’t even speak about it? Although she knew that she was far better off to forget the topic, a part of her remained morbidly curious.

* * *

The evening’s meeting passed blissfully quickly, culminating in a decision to send out two teams to separate locations in order to increase their chances of finding useful supplies. Rebecca and Chris would head to a small town in the North-East with one of Negan’s long-time Saviours, a large and intimidating man named Robert, for protection. This was an area they had already visited a number of times, but Rebecca was hopeful that there would still be some items left for them to use.

The other team consisted of Ben, Tim, Sylvie and Negan himself. This larger group would travel south to hit an area they had only explored a handful of times, in the hopes that they would strike gold. Some of the scouts thought that they spied a school during their last trip there. If they were correct, and if the school had a cafeteria, it could keep them in canned goods for months to come. Both teams would set out for the journey the following morning.

After the meeting had wrapped up and the group had departed for the evening, Negan and Rebecca were left alone in his office. She had begun to move chairs back into their original places from the circle they had been placed in during the discussion. Preoccupied with anxiety about the upcoming mission, the petite woman didn’t notice Negan step behind her until he had placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump a little.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on people! That’s a really good way to get accidentally stabbed these days, you know,” she mumbled.

“Fuck…sorry! I thought you knew I was there,” he replied sheepishly, “I’ll be back in a minute. Gotta catch Robert and go over some shit. Then I have to take a piss.”

“Thank you for sharing your bathroom activities. I love to know these things about you.”

“Gross,” he said bluntly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, fuck off! You’re the gross one!” she smiled back and resumed moving chairs, “See you in a bit.”

“You know it, Fuckface!” With that, he left the room, carelessly allowing the door to slam shut a little too loudly behind him.  

Once the chairs had been cleared away, Rebecca moved on to folding up the map, which stretched across the large, wooden coffee table in the centre of the room. As she approached the over-sized piece of paper, her eyes trained once more on the dark stain in the upper left quadrant of the page.

Her mind wandered back to that afternoon’s conversation with Negan. Something that could frighten him to that extent may be dangerous, but fuck was she intrigued! She needed to know more about what had happened to him in those woods. But how could she convince him to talk to her about something that he clearly didn’t want to go into?

A sudden memory caught Rebecca, causing her to spin in the direction of the heavy wooden bureau that the Sanctuary’s leader kept in the far corner of the room. Its deeply lacquered finish gleamed in the light of the lamps that dotted the area around it.  

His journal was in there. He had mentioned it once, but she had never bothered to ask him any further questions about its exact contents. All she knew was that, before initially meeting Dwight’s group all those years ago, Negan had wandered the roads and forests of the area alone for many months after the outbreak had begun. During that time, he kept a journal of his experiences.  Not for sentimental reasons, but simply to keep track of time, and to provide a historical record of what he assumed would be his final days on earth, for someone else to find after he was gone.

Even for someone who was sleeping with the man, reading his journal seemed way too intimate to Rebecca. She turned away for a moment, trying to fight the impulse to cross the room and begin opening drawers in search of the book. There was no guarantee that the incident in the woods had even happened when he was writing the journal. And even if it had been, maybe he had omitted it.

But something drew her to the bureau. It was almost as if she was being pulled there by a force outside of herself; curiosity burned at the back of her skull as her steps slowly dragged her forward. Once she had crossed the room, she reached a pale and shaky hand out to grasp a small bronze knob and pulled the upper right-hand drawer open. The book was right there in plain sight, just as she somehow knew it would be.

Her pulse quickened, thudding dully in her ears as her fingers grazed the cover. Nothing about the book’s appearance let on that its contents could be extraordinary in nature: the cover, a bright primary blue, was made of durable plastic and silver wire looped through a series of holes down the left side of the book. The plastic had cracked around several of the holes and she could see that the edges of some of the paper were dog-eared and worn.

She placed the book back in its hiding spot and sat in Negan’s chair mere moments before the office’s heavy door creaked open and the man himself stepped into the room.

“Hey, Fuckface! Miss me?” he asked cheerfully.

“Me? Miss you? Never!” she replied with a smirk, crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair.

“Well, I missed the fuck out of you,” he crossed to the centre of the room, “Look at you sitting there all cute at my desk. It’s real fucking sexy.”

“Nope!”

“Nope what?”

“No sex. Not tonight. We both need some sleep before tomorrow and it’s late.”

He sniffled dramatically, feigning sadness, “Are-are you rebuffing me, Fuckface? Well, I am hurt!”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get over it. Now let’s get our asses to bed, ok?”

* * *

Rebecca lay awake in the darkness of their bedroom for a long time, listening to Negan’s breathing slow and deepen as sleep took him into its depths. A few soft snores began to break the room’s silence, letting her know that he was well and truly out. She smiled to herself: Negan would hate it if she ever let him know that he snored.

She gave it a few more minutes before quietly slipping from the sheets, making sure that her weight didn’t cause the floor to creek as she moved through night into the hallway outside. Once the door was firmly latched behind her, she quickened her pace, moving like silk down the hallway until she stood in front of the imposing doors which led to Negan’s office.

The door was locked, of course, but she had a key. She was one of only two people, aside from the office’s owner, who had been trusted with unsupervised access to the space. As she slid the key into the lock, she considered that this trust may have been misplaced. What was she doing here, in the middle of the night, getting ready to read the secrets of the man she loved? How was that healthy?

And furthermore, why did she seem completely unable to stop herself from doing so?

Pushing her guilt aside, she re-bolted the door behind her and crossed the room to the bureau for the second time that night. She opened the drawer, more confidently this time, and plucked the notebook from its place.

Grabbing a nearby lamp, she moved to the chair she had sat in earlier and opened a side-drawer to find a half-used box of matches with which she lit the lamp. The soft amber glow created a small pool of light for her to read by. The moonlight streaming in from the room’s huge windows cast the rest of her surroundings in a silver, nearly ghostly glow.

She opened the book to the first page, folding it out along the bureau’s smooth surface. Taking a deep breath, she began to read the first page.


	2. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca begins to read Negan’s private journals from his first few days on the road after the world ended. What could have happened to him while he was wandering to make him so fearful of a certain part of the region in the northeast that he won’t even mention it? Perhaps the journals will reveal more of his past…

**September 7**

Writing this in a nice, fresh fucking notebook, like it’s the first day of school or something. Shit. Maybe it would have been the first day of school today if the world hadn’t ended, huh?

I don’t even really know why I’m writing this shit, or who I’m writing it for. I’ll probably be one of those dead fucks soon enough, wandering around trying to take off people’s faces. I guess I just want to keep track of the days. Today was the end of the first day on the road, and it’ll be hard to keep track of time without some kind of log.

I couldn’t stay in that house alone anymore. Too many memories for me there. The road is more dangerous, for sure, but it’s also new and open. I feel like I can breathe again out here.

But I’m lonely.

**Dead fuck sightings** : 25.

* * *

 

**September 10**

Wandered for the last few days. Finally made it out of the city this morning. No more tall buildings. Now there’s just suburbs, parks, and McMansions all around me. Fucking ugly ass, overpriced shit architecture…Lucille hated that shit just as much as I do.

Fuck I miss her a lot. It’s hard to think about her too much. Fucking fuck this sucks.

Camped out in the middle of a playground. Feels wrong to light a campfire here, but fuck it. Not like there are any kiddies around to burn their little hands in it or something. No homeowner’s association to bitch me out for it either. Ha! Bet those prissy fucks died on day one of this shit. Who’s laughing now, Mr. McMansion Motherfucker!

**Dead fuck sightings:**  12

* * *

 

**September 12**

The suburbs are getting decidedly less suburb-y. The houses are further and further apart, and are either big and expensive-looking, or run down little shacks. Looks like I’m starting to hit the rural areas. That’s probably not a bad thing since less people = less dead fucks coming at me.

At least, that’s what I fucking hope!

I guess a bunch of them could form some kind of roving mob ‘o’ flesh-eaters and swarm onto the road at any minute. Wouldn’t that be a fucking fun way to go? At least they’d probably tear me apart so that I wouldn’t come back as one of them. Maybe.

**Dead fuck sightings:**  9

* * *

 

**September 15**

Yep. I fucking knew it. I’m in the woods now. The houses are basically miles apart and most of them are really fucking shitty looking. There are thick-ass woods everywhere and let me fucking tell ya: they’re spooky as fuck.

Less walkers around here though. So, I guess I’ll take spooky woods over actual danger.

I’ve always been bad with directions, but I think I’m headed north east. There’s really no rhyme or reason to my wandering; I’m just trying to stay the hell away from the cities. They’re fucked.

It does get kind of lonely at night, and I hope that I meet an actual living fucker here soon. Could use the company.

**Dead fuck sightings:** 5

* * *

 

**September 17**

Someone’s following me.

They think that I can’t tell, but I can totally fucking tell. I may look big and stupid, but whoever-the-fuck is a really shitty stalker. I mean, at least try to cover up the sound of your footsteps, right?

I can almost feel them watching me right now while I write this over the fire. I don’t know why they don’t just approach me. Better not mean me any harm because I will sure as shit put a stop to that ASAP.

And, yeah, I just heard a twig snap behind me. Fuck fuck fuck.

Write write write…just a big dumb fuck pretending to write his fucking journal. Blah blah blah. Come get some you stupid fuck. I fucking dare ya!

**Dead fuck sightings:** 3

**Creepy stalker sightings:**  0, but I know you’re there motherfucker!

* * *

 

**September 18**

Creepy fucking stalker made contact this afternoon. 

Turns out, creepy fucking stalker is a not-too-bad looking woman who’s scouting for a group a few days from here. She goes out looking for other survivors while the rest stay in a little place in the woods. Doesn’t seem super fair to let her go out all alone, but maybe everyone else is feeble and would only slow her down?

We’re heading back to her camp now. We should be there soon. Maybe my luck has finally turned around! I could use a fucking break and some company. If we can fortify the place and start growing food, maybe we can all get through this. There’s safety in numbers and in time we can start rebuilding a little.

Fuck, I wouldn’t mind trying to repopulate the world with my new companion. She’s looking not too bad sitting across the fire right now…

**Dead fuck sightings:**  1, but it was mostly harmless, so does that count?

* * *

 

**September 19**

My former stalker’s name is Gail, by the way. We’ve been getting to know each other during the trip back to her camp. Not like that…well, not yet anyway…

Any-fucking-way, Gail says that she’s originally from a small town not too far away from this camp she’s in now. Evidently, the place is a ghost town called Falling Creek that she used to visit for kicks as a teenager in the “before times”

(Doesn’t that just sound so fucking dramatic? Before Times? But, I guess the situation is a tad fucking dramatic, after all).

The place was abandoned way back in the early 1940s. Like, the town was bustling one day and then winter came and by the next spring everyone just kind of fucked off. She says that there are a lot of creepy stories about why everyone left, but what good ghost town doesn’t have spooky stories about it?

The place probably just lost their source of income and everyone decided to go to greener pastures or whatever the fuck.

Anyway, Gail and her group decided that it would work well as a base because no people = no one to get infected and try to eat you. I like the way she thinks.

Seems to be working out too because we haven’t seen any deadies in days. Oddly enough, I can still smell them though. It seems like that dead body smell just follows us everywhere we go. Maybe it’s all in my head…some kind of PTSD? I just wish my symptoms weren’t so fucking gross.

The weirdest part is that Gail says she can smell it too. Here’s hoping that the camp has cleaner air than these woods. We should be there tomorrow if we keep making good time.

**Dead fuck sightings:**  0

* * *

 

**September 20**

Fuck yeah, motherfucker! We are at the camp now! 

Just arrived this afternoon, and the folks waiting around here seem pretty relieved to see Gail. I’m relieved to see a goddamn bed, even if it is pretty vintage and crawling with dust mites.

Don’t think about the dust mites, Negan. It’s better than whatever crawls around you all night when you sleep in the woods anyway…

So, these are the folks here at the camp with me:

 

  * **Gail:** Of course, my lady stalker. Really nice, no-nonsense kind of a gal. Saved my ass from probably starving to death in the woods. Gail’s pretty fucking cool, if you ask me. Nice butt too. (I’ll stop now…)


  * **Max:** One of Gail’s neighbour’s kids…well, former neighbour.  Poor kid’s mom got eaten and Gail took him with her. Cute kid. Thinks he’s tough, but he can’t be more than 100 lbs soaking wet.


  * **David:**  Another neighbour of Gail’s. Dude had a pretty good gun stash (because that’s how small town folk do, I guess?), so when shit went real sideways, Gail hauled ass to his place with Max in her pickup. After a few days she and David decided to jump back into the truck with his boom-sticks and they came to Falling Creek to get away from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis of Maple Pass. (just kidding…who the fuck has ever heard of that place?) I high-key think he wants to fuck Gail. But then again, who doesn’t? (I lied about stopping.)


  * **Alan:**  David and Gail picked him up on their way to Falling Creek. He was just walking along like I was, minding his own business. Must have seemed harmless enough. He’s a quiet guy. Hard to tell how old he is – got one of those faces where he could be 28 or 48 and both would make sense. Says he’s half Native American on his mom’s side. Spent time all over the place and never really settled down until things got all weird with the dead rising and stuff. Guess that’s as good enough an excuse as any to stay put for a while.


  * **Mary:** Teenage girl they found in the woods a few weeks ago during one of Gail’s expeditions. She doesn’t really talk. Like, at all. Poor thing is totally fucked up and traumatized by whatever it is she saw before Gail found her. She just kind of walks around like one of those dead fucks most of the time. I don’t even want to think about what she witnessed to make her like that. Truth be told, she kind of gives me the creeps, but I’m trying to at least talk to her (…at her?) ...Maybe eventually she’ll snap out of it.



 

Speaking of creepy, Falling Creek is pretty creepy in and of itself. Gail says that she used to come here with her friends to drink and fuck as a teenager. Seems legitimate to me. The place is 100% deserted, and nature has started to take it all back. Everything’s crumbling and overgrown with weeds. It’d be the perfect place for kids to come and be sure no one else would follow them.

Who the fuck would come here otherwise?

**Dead fuck sightings:**  0

* * *

 

**September 25**

Missed a few days of writing. Just trying to get used to being around people again, I guess. It’s weird to have someone to talk to…

Gail is great at conversation. She’s just so warm and nice. Like a pair of fucking undies fresh out of the dryer cradling my balls. Soothing. Maybe this is the start of something good for us?

It’s fucking hard to talk sometimes and be open with people again. I was never really good at it. Even with Lucille. Sometimes I wonder if I made her worse in the end. She spent every day trying to bust down my defenses, and what the fuck did she get for it? Cancer!

I know that’s not how cancer works, but there are moments when you have to wonder if things could have been different.

**Dead fuck sightings:** 0 (ghost towns for the fucking win!)

* * *

 

**September 27**

Gail wants to go out on another of her expeditions. I told her that there was no way I would let her go out there alone, but she shot that right the fuck down. Says I’m too big and noisy and that she can sneak around a lot better alone. Makes sense, but I am 100% still not keen on the idea.

No one else seems to share my trepidation though, so I guess I should have more faith in the lady. She knows these woods pretty well and she can handle herself. Not like there are any dead fucks in the woods around here anyway.

(Side note: That’s a little weird, isn’t it? I know that this place is a ghost town, but you’d think that at least a few would wander in from the surrounding communities…)

I guess I’ll just twiddle my fucking thumbs and wait for her to come back. She leaves tomorrow morning…

**Dead fuck sightings:** 0

* * *

 

Found written on the back of the previous entry’s page in Negan’s handwriting:

> _The weeds will take it back. Nature will always take it back._
> 
> _Everything goes down to dust in the end._
> 
> _Ashes. Ashes._
> 
> _Now all fall down._

* * *

 

**September 29**

Went to write today and found the fucking poetry or whatever the fuck written on the back of the last entry. It’s in my handwriting, but I don’t remember writing that at all.

Do people sleep-write like they sleep-walk? Is this some kind of weird trauma thing?

Whatever. It’s fucking creepy. Not surprising though, given the circumstances.

Gail has been gone for a couple of days. She’s due back tomorrow, and I think I’ll feel a lot less stressed once she’s here again. She’d better show up because I don’t want to go skulking through the woods for her if she doesn’t. They’re fucking creepy at night. And dark.

Alan and I have been getting along well. He’s telling me all kind of fun facts about the area. Old stories passed down from his grandmother about the place. Some Native American legends and stuff mixed in. Real interesting stuff.

Makes the time pass faster anyway.

“Life is very long…” Who wrote that. Was that T.S. Eliot? In  _The Wasteland_? Or  _The Hollow Men_? Maybe it was Oscar Wilde? Who the fuck knows anymore!

**Dead fuck sightings:**  0 (surprise, surprise!)

* * *

 

**October 1**

Last night was super fucking weird. And, to be clear, I mean super fucking weird in a world that is already really fucked. So that must tell you about the level of fuckedupedness that went down. I’m trying to think of where to even start with this and it’s hard to pinpoint.

I guess the first thing was that Mary started whistling.

It was just around sundown when I noticed it. Kind of a faint and soft sound; it was a melody I don’t recognize, but it was the first real noise I have ever heard her make, so I thought it was pretty fucking cool.

I walked outside of the main building and saw her sitting on a bench beside the doorway, just whistling away. She was looking into the woods, which were already dark as fuck by this point. I sat down next to her on the bench and just listened to her go.

It was kind of fucking pretty.

It was around this time that I noticed that the dead body smell had come back.

Less pretty.

I wanted to quiet her down since sound seems to draw them to us, but by this point Max had come out and sat down on her other side and I didn’t want to be a dick and discourage the poor thing from making noise, so I just kept an eye out for anything unusual.

After a few minutes David joins us and starts asking Mary about the song. Stuff like, “What is that you’re whistling?” and “Where did you learn to do that? It’s awful nice!” Of course, she doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even really acknowledge any of us being there. Just keeps on fucking whistling to herself.

Her eyes were just staring out into the tree-line. It was almost like she was looking for something. Maybe she was trying to call one of the deadies to us for shits and giggles?

Mary ends the song, but holds the last note for a long time. It’s high-pitched and almost hurts my ears just thinking about it. Like a tea-kettle that’s boiled and waiting for someone to finally take it off the burner. The sound just keeps going and going. It seems like forever, and I’m honestly getting a little fucking creeped out. I swear she never even blinked or took a breath.

All of a sudden the door slams open and there’s Alan looking like he’s seen a fucking ghost or something. He runs up to Mary and before I can stop him he’s shaking her and telling her to stop. He’s not mad…just like, panicked? He’s got a hand over her mouth by the time I get up and drag him off.

Mary stops and just looks up at him with these big, brown eyes. It’s almost like she didn’t know what she was doing, or didn’t remember. The girl looked genuinely confused as shit.

Alan apologizes to her, and then says something like: “You can never whistle like that at night. Do you understand? It calls them to you. Please, never do that again, Mary.”

She nods like she understands and just gets up and goes back into the building. Everyone kind of starts to move away from Alan except for me. I sit back down on the bench and he does the same.

We sit in silence for a few minutes just looking out at the trees that surround the town. Eventually I say, “Do you really think that whistling draws the dead fucks to us? I mean, I haven’t seen any of them since I got here. It’s actually a bit weird.”

He answers, “It is weird, isn’t it? No dead things around, but you can smell the death, can’t you?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I was starting to think it was all in my head. Real fucking relieved that you can smell it too, buddy.”

“I don’t know if that’s cause for relief or concern, to tell you the truth,” he mumbles to himself.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d better not talk about it. It’s something that...” he trailed off like he was trying to find the right words to explain, “In my grandmother’s culture, there were things that you just don’t talk about. You don’t even think about them. They’re that powerful. Things that live in the woods. Things that can be called to people who seek them out without realizing until it’s too late that they’ve laid their own trap. Whether through greed, or curiosity, or just plain old bad luck.”

“You talking about fucking ghosts or some shit, Alan? I don’t really believe in this kind of supernatural shit, you know.”

He looked at me, “Yeah, well…in a world where the dead walk, who’s to say that ghosts aren’t real. And for the record: No. Not ghosts. Ghosts would be infinitely better than what I’m thinking of right now.”

At this point I’m getting exasperated with the guy. I mean, if you’re scared of some shit just say it. Don’t play coy with this “Oh it must not be named aloud!” bullshit. I was about to call him out on this when the bushes to our right started to rustle.

Look, I’m a big fucking guy and I can hold my own in a fight, but I’m not too big to admit that I just about shit myself when that happened. I think that feeling was mutual for Alan because we both got up real fast and spun around to see what was making the noise.

It was Gail. Of course it was. In all of the weirdness of the evening I almost forgot that she was due back that afternoon. She grinned at us and her face was cast in an orange glow from the setting sun. She looked tired, but hot as fuck in that moment.

“Hey fellas!” she called out at us, waving, “Sorry to startle you. And sorry for being late. Had a little bit of a hold up in the woods. Got turned around for a couple of hours.”

This actually made my heart skip a beat. I mean, I’m not in love with the lady, but she did save my ass and I feel like I at least owe her one. The idea of her lost out there alone really fucking freaks me out. Especially since she knows these woods so well.

After a few minutes of me playing the concerned guy who needs to know “How did this happen?” and “How can this never fucking happen again?!” she calmed me down and we all went back inside for some food and more conversation.

Here’s hoping that she at least takes someone with her next time she’s out there.

Dead fuck sightings: 0, but at this point I’d welcome them over weird whistling girls and Alan’s creepy bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of a multi-chapter fic for ladylorelitany’s Monster Mash challenge.


	3. The Call of the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entries continue and so do the revelations about Negan’s time in Falling Creek. Alan reveals more about what he fears and the sinister writing in Negan’s journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 3 of my submission for ladylorelitanyfanfiction‘s Monster Mash Challenge! I’m thinking that Part 4 will finish off the tale.

Rebecca looked up from the pages of the October 1st entry, her gaze re-focusing in the dim light of the lamp by which she read. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, though she knew they were not tears of sadness. It was fear that she was gripped by as she leaned away from the notebook; some kind of primal, inexpressible fear which caused her eyes to well up and her stomach to turn.

Her gaze floated to the edge of the forest that ended several feet from the Sanctuary’s protective fence. She imagined being in Falling Creek with Negan and his first group of survivors, with the trees encircling their only haven from the horrors that were taking place on the streets of every city and town . Keeping one another safe as the dead rose and began to consume the world. A pool of light and hope in a vast pit of darkness.

A Sanctuary.

_The weeds will always take it back_ , she thought, and the impulse to whistle gripped her suddenly. Not only to whistle but to allow it to linger, drifting into the night in a long, solid note like a tea kettle left on a burner. The feeling gripped her in the same way that the urge to jump from a height might grip someone who has climbed to the top of a building.

“The Call of the Void.”

The urge to self-destruct. To injure or kill oneself, even when one doesn’t feel the least suicidal. That little piece of your brain that whispers, “Jump!” in your ear and terrifies you with its strength. The feeling of having to wrestle for control of your own body in defiance of The Void.

A manic giggle escaped Rebecca’s throat and she slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and startled.

She wouldn’t whistle.

Her eyes slowly descended back to the notebook in front of her. As they did, a flash of movement caught her attention in the trees and her eyes darted, searching for whatever she had seen. But there was nothing there, save for the trees, which were still and silent.

Shaking her head as if to clear away the confusion she felt, she continued to read.

**October 3**

It is absofuckinglutely piss pouring rain at the moment. I guess that’s not so bad. The last fucking thing we need is a fucking forest fire to come along and displace us. I can think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a night in those woods…

Things have been quiet around here since Gail got back. No creepy whistling girls. No vague ghost stories from Alan. Everyone’s been really fucking quiet. Maybe a little too quiet? No one seems to talk anymore. Most of the time we just sit in our rooms alone…Eat alone…Drink alone…

It kind of feels like the world is holding its breath.

At least Gail found some fucking food while she was out in the woods. We’ve been eating pretty well since she got back. I think she said that it’s wild boar. Pretty fucking badass of her to kill a fucking boar for us! Makes a guy feel loved…

Dead fuck sightings: 0 (but I can still smell them most of the time)

* * *

**October 6**

Gail’s been acting kind of strange. In fact, really fucking strange. She hardly talks to anyone anymore. Not even Max or David, and they’ve known one another for a long-ass time. She used to be so friendly and open when I met her, but now she just sleeps a lot or spends all of her time walking alone in the woods.

I can’t necessarily blame her. We’ve all been through some stressful times and have seen some shit. Sometimes you just go on auto-pilot until you’re safe and then the stress catches up with you. And the depression smacks your ass down into the dirt.

We all go back to the dirt in the end, don’t we? Figuratively and metaphorically speaking.

I don’t know if I should try to talk to her about it, or fucking what. I suck at other people’s feelings almost as much as I suck at dealing with my own shit. Maybe I should just let it go and see what happens.

I just don’t want her going off the deep end and doing something really bad.

Dead fuck sightings: 0

* * *

Found scrawled on the back of the previous entry in a nearly illegible scratch:

You’re right. It all ends in the dirt.

You will all end in the dirt.

Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. All down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall down. Fall DOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNALLDOWNALLDOWNALLDOWNALLDOWNALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWNFALLDOWN

ALL

DOWN

FALL

DOWN

ALL

* * *

**October 9**

The writing on the back of October 6 is fucking me up. I almost don’t want to touch this fucking book again. It feels contaminated. Unclean.

I don’t even know if that’s my handwriting this time because it’s so fucking scratched on there. But who the fuck else could have done it? I’m the only one who knows about this book. No one’s ever seen me write in it as far as I know.

Anyway, I made a promise to myself to document the last few days of my life. For science…or history…or whatever the fuck. So here I am, writing, against my better judgment.

Gail is still sleeping most of the time. Mary is still…well, Mary. Silent and sad. Alan seems preoccupied by something, but he won’t say what it is…

Max and David are the only semi-normal folks here. David just kind of tries to keep the poor kid occupied and give him as much of a childhood as he can, given the circumstances. They both seem worried for Gail too.

Max tried to get in bed with her yesterday afternoon to cuddle while she slept and she just turned away from him and faced the wall. The poor kid didn’t understand what was going on so he tried to hug her from behind and she just pulled away further and wrapped the blankets tighter around her shoulders.

Max starts to cry because he’s just a kid and doesn’t know how to deal with this shit. No, scratch that, he  _shouldn’t have to_  deal with this shit. So, I distracted him with a card game and he forgot about Gail snubbing him. Or seemed to anyway.

Dead fuck sighting: 0 (…but the fucking smell never seems to go away. You’d think I would get used to it, but it’s stronger, if anything)

* * *

**October 10**

Well, David tried to talk some sense into Gail today. It didn’t go well, from what I could hear.

It was hard to make out exactly what was said because they were behind a closed door, but I could hear him trying to speak calmly to her while she basically ripped the poor guy a new asshole. The only thing I could 100% make out was her saying (or screaming):

“You don’t understand! You don’t get it! We’re all going to die out here unless we can get enough food for the winter, and that’s on me. I’m the  _scavenger_! I’m the one who has to go out there and face whatever’s in the woods to find other people and their supplies! What part of that don’t you get, David?!”

I heard David practically whisper, “What do you mean by ‘people and their supplies’, Gail? Are you trying to say that you killed someone for a few cans of fucking food? Did you even kill the boar or did you just steal it from someone too?”

It got really quiet and hard to hear the rest, but I swear it sounded like she said, “No. I killed him myself. I did what I had to do for us…”

Then the fighting erupted again and I couldn’t take it anymore. I listened to my fucking parents fight like that back in the day, before the divorce. Fucking bitterness and anger dripping from every syllable they uttered to one another.

I fucking hate that shit. So I just walked out of the place and wandered around some of the old buildings, thinking about the past. About my parents and Lucille and how fucked up things got in the end.

My mind kept going back to Gail’s words though: “I killed him myself.”

“Him” not “it”.

Weird fucking way to refer to a wild boar that we’ve been eating for days, but that’s women for you. They always seem to like personifying animals. I don’t get it. If I eat you, I don’t want to think of you as a person. You’re food now.

I wonder if that’s how the fucking dead fucks work. Maybe they’re all hallucinating that we’re just big fucking pieces of steak and pumpkin pie or some shit like that? Weird train of thought there, Neegs.

Dead fuck sightings: 0 (blah, blah blah…the air smells like shit here…starting to think that we’re right next to a fucking abattoir or something….Maybe that’s why folks fucked off from here in the 40s?)

* * *

Found on the next page in a tight, controlled script that does not match Negan’s handwriting:

He doesn’t know.

I know what he writes.

I’ll write too.

Soon they will all know…

He comes.

* * *

**October 14**

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It’s been a few days since I saw the lovely little note someone left me after my last entry. Fucking fuck. This shit is getting too weird.

I showed it to Alan today because he at least seems to know a few things about weird shit going on in the woods. He got really pale when he saw it and even paler when I showed him the first two. Especially that fucking “Fall Down” one.

He told me that he needed to show me something right away. It was dark and still raining out a little bit, but I followed him outside and across the tiny village we’ve called our home for a few weeks.

He took me to the very edge of town, near the beginning of the woods. I didn’t want to go anywhere fucking near that shit, but I had to follow. It seemed so important to him. Besides, it might not be safe anywhere anymore.

We stood outside of the building he had brought me to for a moment before swinging the old wooden door open and leading me inside. Everything was dark aside from the beam of light coming from Alan’s flashlight, and what little I could see made me want to go take at least five hot showers.

The whole place was wrecked to shit. Wooden furniture overturned and broken. Everything covered in dust and thick cobwebs. Decades of leaves and debris that had blown in through the broken windows scattered around.

I asked, “What the fuck is this place?”

Without saying anything, Alan pointed his beam to the far right corner of the room and illuminated the wall. My eyes followed and I finally saw why he had brought me to this place. There was a drawing on the wall. It looked like this:

 “It was their church,” he said finally.

“What?”

“The people who were here before us. In the 40s. This was their church. This has all happened before, and it’s happening again now.”

“What? What the fuck is happening? What does this mean?”

“It means,” he said softly, “that we need to get out of here soon or we’ll end up like the town’s first inhabitants.”

“Oh? And what fucking happened to them? I thought they just fucked off…”

“Does a whole town of people just ‘fuck off’ over the course of one winter, Negan?” his eyes burned into me, “Towns die slowly from a million small losses. Whole populations don’t just get up one winter day and walk out of their homes, leaving everything behind, and write shit like this on their walls before they do. They didn’t leave. They  _died_.”

“How do you know this? How could you possibly know?”

“Because my grandmother was here when it happened. Haven’t you figured that out by now? She saw the literal writing on the wall,” he gestured with his flashlight, “and got out before the snow flew.  And that’s what I intend to do first thing tomorrow morning. I would encourage you to do the same if you value your fucking soul.”

“What are we fucking talking about here? Fucking souls? What the fuck, man? I don’t understand this shit!”

“You don’t need to. It’s not for you to understand. Just listen to me and know that if you stay here you will die horribly. You will all die horribly. They found them in the spring. My grandmother told me when I was old enough to understand. The town didn’t disappear. They were right here. Dead. Eaten. Decaying. That’s what happened to the town of Falling Creek.”

“Can you just tell me what we’re fucking talking about? Please? I need to know because I haven’t seen a whole lot outside of this place that feels very safe right now either.”

Alan sighed and lowered his beam, then looked me dead in the eyes before responding, “Look, I’m only going to say this once, so listen to me now. I don’t even want to say it because saying it can be enough to pique its attention, but if you have to know…if it’s the only way to convince you to come with me, then here it is: Wendigo.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“There are things out here that are worse than the living dead. Those fuckers are just mindless machines, toiling away at the command of their impulses. They aren’t malevolent or benevolent – they just exist.”

He continued:

“The thing that I just named? It’s different. It is every evil that sleeps in the heart of humanity.

It is every time someone harms another out of self-interest or hate or greed.

It is colonialism.

It is genocide.

It is a hate crime.

It is famine.

It is abuse of power.

It is corruption.

It eats away at those who encounter it. It leaves them always hungry for more power and more wrath. They are never satisfied. To even speak its name is to invoke it.

It lives in these woods. My grandmother knew it. And her parents before her. And their parents and so on. It’s always been here and always will be. It may sleep for a while, but it always wakes up eventually. Usually when you’re at your lowest and most desperate.

Nothing stops it because true evil has no end. You can only avoid it and hope that it’s enough. Like a hurricane. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. That’s why I couldn’t say its name before, but I’m willing to risk it if it saves you and the others.

I thought that it was just a story. I was willing to come here with Gail because it seemed like a good place to hide out. Now I know that it’s real. As real as you or me. And we need to get out.”

He turned and left back for the main building. I followed along with him and said nothing. What could I say?

As soon as we were inside he began to pack his things silently.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what to do. Even if we leave at first light, we’ll have to spend a few days in the woods before we reach the next town. I can’t leave Max or Mary here, but I don’t know if they would make it out there.

I want to go, but I don’t know if I can live with myself if I leave them here with that thing. Whatever it is.

Dead fuck count: Who cares?


	4. The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca reads the final series of entries detailing Negan’s last days in Falling Creek. What happened to his companions? How did he make it out alive?

**October 15**

Alan is dead.

We found him early this morning near the edge of the woods, close to the church. His throat had been ripped out and he’d been partially eaten. He had been dead long enough to reanimate, so it must have happened late last night or early this morning. David put him down.

Was it a dead fuck that did it? Being partially eaten fits their fucking m.o…but I can’t stop thinking about what he told me yesterday. He said that his grandmother had been here in the 40s and that when they found the town’s residents the next spring; everyone had been eaten then too. By the…thing…that I can’t even bring myself to fucking write down now. No dead fucks around back then…

Add to that the fact that we haven’t even seen a fucking stiff around here in weeks, and it looks really fucking weird…

But we can smell them. It never goes away now. And you never get used to the smell.

Fuck. I don’t know what to think or even say anymore. I’ve been holed up in this room, away from everyone for most of the day, trying to decide what to do.

I can’t imagine that any one of us did this – it’s too fucking gruesome to think about. But what if something happened? What if he got into a fight with someone? I’m trying to think if I heard or saw anything last night after he started to pack. I know Gail and David asked him what he was doing. I don’t think he answered.

I remember a dream I had last night about wind whistling through the trees. It was so loud and fucking persistent, like an alarm. At least, I think it was a dream.

It’s too late to leave today, even if I wanted to go.

I’ll sleep on it and decide tomorrow morning.

Dead fuck count: 1. Fuck.

* * *

 

**October 17**

It’s really fucking early in the morning. I didn’t leave yesterday. Things were too fucked to even prepare to consider it.

I haven’t slept. I don’t feel like I’ll ever fucking sleep again…

Mary went off the deep end when we told her about Alan. I’ve never seen anyone act that way before. She started screaming and crying and hyperventilating. It was awful shit.

David and I tried to calm her down while Max ran off to get away from the screaming. Can’t say that I blame the kid. I wish I could have followed suit. I’ll never forget the sounds she made. It was like something broke in her.

Gail just walked away and laid in her bed with her back to us. Fucking selfish bitch hasn’t done anything for anyone since she got back from her last jaunt to the woods. Guess she figures that she’s paid her dues so Dave and I get to deal with this fucking clusterfuck.

Jesus, what the fuck happened to her out there to make her into such a selfish prick?

Eventually we got Mary quieted down and put the poor kid in bed. She was just shaking under the covers. Her skin felt cold as ice, but she was sweating enough to soak the blankets.

She locked eyes with me and whispered something really low. I almost couldn’t make it out, but I think she said, “He found me.”

I got close to her then and asked her what she said, and she just stared at me for a minute. Her eyes were so dark and sad.

I asked her again.

When she answered, there was no doubt about what she said. Her voice steadied and got a little louder, “He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming, sweetheart?” David asked, and his eyes started to dart around the room.

“The one from the woods,” she said and paused for a second, “The one who took my parents and my brother. The one who devours us.”

Her voice was so sad and wavering now; I could tell she was about to lose it again.

“You mean the walkers?” David asked, “Is that what happened to you? They killed your parents? Mary, I’m so-“

“No,” she said, cutting off his condolences, “He’s different. He knows things. He’s smarter than  _them_. He’s smarter than  _us_. And he’s coming. We’re all going to die here. Like Alan. Like my parents. These are his woods.”

Then she laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. We tried to wake her up, but she was out of it. Shaking and cold. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.

I’ve been watching her ever since. Just sitting across the room, hoping she comes out of it. It feels like being with Lucille in the hospital again. I need to stay here for her, even though I know the smart thing to do would be to walk out the fucking door and take my chances in the woods.

I’m going to try to talk to Gail about it in the morning. Maybe she’ll have an idea about what to do, if I can help her dig her head out of her own ass.

Dead fuck sighting: 0

* * *

 

**October 17 (part 2)**

When it rains it fucking pours, don’t it?

Max is gone. No one seems to have a fucking clue where he is, and Gail won’t even get off her lazy ass to help David and I look for him. (If it doesn’t involve eating her precious boar meat or sleeping, she doesn’t seem to care)

He’s usually up before anyone in the mornings, but today everyone was out of bed and there was no sign of him. We checked the place he usually sleeps and it was empty. No one saw him leave.

The kid probably got spooked by all of Mary’s screaming and went to hide somewhere in the town. I can’t imagine he went to the woods. There’s no way. At least, I hope to fuck he didn’t.

David and I are taking turns watching Mary (the poor girl’s still out of it, but is hanging on) and searching through the other buildings for Max. I don’t like splitting up like this, but there’s nothing else we can do.

I hope the kid’s all right, and I hope Mary snaps out of it soon so we can haul ass out of here. I don’t care what Gail says at this point. We’re putting Falling Creek as far behind us as we can, as soon as we can.

Dead fuck sightings: 0…and hopefully it’ll stay that way.

* * *

 

**October 18**

It’s early in the morning. The sun’s just about to start streaming through the trees so I’d guess 7 or 8am maybe? Who fucking knows. I feel like I haven’t slept in years.

I spent most of the evening yesterday looking for Max, but there was no trace of him. At this point, we’ve been through every building in the town at least once. David went out last night and he’s due back any time now.

Once he’s here we’ll eat and re-group.

* * *

 

**October 18 (part 2)**

David’s not back yet, and I’m not optimistic that he will be. Its mid-afternoon and everything outside of this building is so fucking quiet. I can’t remember when I heard him calling for Max last. It was still dark out in any case, so it was probably hours ago.

Mary’s dead to the world. Maybe she’s just dead for real, and I haven’t noticed yet.

I tried talking to Gail about what we should do. Should we leave Mary and go look for David and Max? Can she watch Mary while I go?

Seems like she doesn’t fucking speak anymore. She’s just sitting in the corner with her knees tucked up to her chest, staring at me. Her eyes remind me of a fucking predatory animal locked in a zoo. She looks like she’s waiting for something.

Every once in a while I hear her make a kind of groaning noise, but that’s it. It doesn’t sound like she’s in pain. It almost sounds….I don’t know? Impatient? Something like that.

I don’t know if I like how she’s looking at me. And I don’t want to leave her and Mary alone together either, so I guess I’m stuck here.

* * *

 

**October 18 (part 3)**

The wind is crazy outside. It feels like it’s going to rip the house down, and  the whistling sound it makes is just fucking incessant. It almost sounds like the woods are alive. Who fucking knows? Maybe they are.

I think I fell asleep or passed out or something. Figures since I haven’t fucking slept more than an hour in the last few days.

I don’t know if it was the wind or Gail that woke me up, to be honest.

When I opened my eyes she was really close to me, and it scared the shit out of me how close she had gotten before I noticed. When my eyes opened, she kind of shrank back a bit. But her eyes were still digging into me. She doesn’t look out of it like Mary does. There’s something intelligent still in there; something fucking…processing…or something? Planning, maybe?

What the fuck was she doing? And what the fuck would she have done if I hadn’t noticed her?

David and Max are still gone. Mary is still in her bed. I need to get out of here soon. I don’t know if I can wait for the poor girl to wake up. I don’t want to leave her. Not like this, and not with Gail…

Maybe I can talk some sense into Gail and get her to snap the fuck out of this state she’s in?

Even now I can hear her groaning as she watches me. It’s even louder than before. I feel like the combination of that and the whistling outside is going to drive me fucking insane soon.

* * *

 

Written on the back of the previous entry in thick, dark lines:

**He has come.**

**We will live inside him now.**

**In the earth.**

**In the trees.**

**Forever.**

* * *

 

**October 20**

I’m so sorry for what I had to do. I hope that God doesn’t exist because if he does, I’ll have to answer for the past 24 hours of my life someday. I’m sure of it.

I did what I had to do to survive. Though I’m not so sure that I’m much better off than the ones who didn’t make it…I passed out again after the last entry. It’d been so long since I had slept that I went out hard and fast.

I only came to when I heard the screams.

What I saw, I don’t think I will ever get out of my head for the rest of my life. It was dark, but I could make out just enough of what was going on…

Gail was on top of Mary. She was straddling her as the poor thing lay in bed defenseless and weak. Gail’s back was to me and I could see her arms raising and lowering down to Mary’s chest.

For a split second it looked like she was giving her CPR or something. Trying to revive her maybe…but they were both screaming. Mary in fear, and Gail in kind of a growling rage. Then I saw the blood and the knife in Gail’s hands and I knew…

She was stabbing Mary. Not in the way that someone puts down a walker, or even someone they are defending themselves against. She was stabbing the girl like she was her mortal fucking enemy.

Then, after a while, Mary stopped screaming, and I knew she was gone. And Gail kept going and her screams were becoming moans now. It was like she was enjoying the kill. She lurched forward, toward Mary’s face and I swear to fuck she bit her. She bit her and ate the piece she took and I could hear her growl like a fucking animal while she ate it.

I don’t know exactly what happened after that. I remember getting up and I was filled with the rage now too. How the fuck can someone kill someone as defenseless as Mary was, lying in bed on the brink of death anyway? The girl had hours left to live and you took it upon yourself to fucking murder her anyway.

I know I pulled Gail off of her and I think I threw her across the room. I’ve never put my hands on a woman like that before, but I couldn’t think straight. The fear and the disgust were so strong that I could taste the blood in my mouth somehow.

I just started hitting her over and over. And she was fucking laughing while I did it. Her face was so gleeful, like she had just won the motherfucking lottery. My fists just kept going, trying to obliterate that fucking smile on her face. Trying to make the laughing stop.

I don’t remember anything else until the woods.

I woke up and I was walking and my hands were raw. I was covered in blood and I was alone. No supplies. Nothing but the clothing I was wearing when I passed out.

I’ve been walking ever since, until this moment. There’s nothing left to do. The sun is setting and I need to stop for the night. I thought I would at least write this in case I don’t make it.

* * *

 

**October 21**

I found Max. He was wandering alone in the woods. Still wearing his fucking jammies from the night he went missing.

Of course he was gone. Several days gone by the look of him. I put him down and made sure he wasn’t suffering as one of the dead fucks anymore. I can’t write about the condition he was in. It huts too much to think about it.

I don’t know if I can live through this. I don’t know if I  _want_  to live through this. I just keep walking through the woods. There’s nothing left to do now but walk until my body gives out.

Sometimes while I walk, I hear something moving along-side me in the trees, just far enough away to not be seen. I never look for it. I feel like I know what I’d find if I turned my head toward the sound. And I don’t know that I want to see.

There’s nothing more I can say.

If it kills me, it kills me. Who fucking cares at this point?

Who wants to be in a world where the weak are murdered and eaten, and the strong either do the killing or sit on their asses until it’s too late to help?

* * *

 

**October 22**

The woods ended this afternoon. I came out on a highway. I’m going to follow it for a while and see where it takes me. I want to be as far away from these woods as I can. I’m not the praying type, but I pray that I never see this place again. And I pray that whatever is in these woods doesn’t follow me.

I should burn this book.

* * *

 

“But you didn’t burn it…” Rebecca murmured to herself, still sitting before the huge windows of Negan’s office. The sun had just started to paint the sky a faint violet, and she shuddered remembering her partner’s entries about his final sleepless nights in Falling Creek.

“No. I didn’t,” came the flat response from behind her.

Rebecca whirled around in shock. How had he managed to get into the room without her hearing?

Negan sat on the couch that took up residence in the middle of the room. His posture was relaxed with his arms outstretched across the back of the piece of furniture and his legs crossed.

“How the fuck-“ she started, but was cut off.

“I’ve been a light fucking sleeper ever since Falling Creek. Can you fucking blame me?”

“I can’t,” she paused, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” he stood with a grunt, “I want to be fucking pissed at you, to tell you the truth. Wanna scream and get in your face for sneaking around and reading my motherfucking private shit. But do you know what I’m mostly feeling at the moment, Fuckface?

He took a step toward her.

“No.”

He took another step.

“I feel relieved. I’ve carried that story alone for so long. No one else knows, besides you and me, as far as I know. No one but me left Falling Creek.”

“You never found David or Gail? You’re sure that they’re-“

“Dead? I don’t. Not for sure. I  _suspect_  that David is dead. And I  _suspect_  that I killed Gail, even though I have no fucking recollection of it. But I don’t know for sure,” he paused for a moment and then continued, “I sent a team of scouts there once in the early days. They were a group of fucking assholes that I wanted to get rid of. Fuckers were harassing the women and some of the older teen girls. Fucking disgusted me, so I figured: what the fuck! Either they come back with news, or whatever lives in those woods takes them.”

“And?”

“They never came back. Probably they got swarmed by dead fucks before they got within miles of the place. But maybe not. Maybe they made it there. Who fucking cares?”

“I think you do. You care about what happened there. You want to know.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’ll never find out. Falling Creek is a dead zone. No one goes into those woods; not any of my people. Not anymore. If you piss me off, I’ll send you to an outpost or just fucking kill you, but I won’t send you there.”

“Why? What changed your mind after the first group you sent?”

He shrugged and looked like he might not answer at all, but then seemed to think better of it, “Turn to the last page of the book.”

Rebecca gingerly picked the notebook up from the desk and held it as though it were a live grenade. She did as she was told and flipped the book over, opening the back cover. She read:

 

**March 30**

We found the factory a few weeks ago. I’m going to try writing again. I don’t even know fucking why. I mean, the last time went so fucking well for me…

* * *

 

**April 29**

I’ve been bad at writing this shit. Too busy actually leading a fucking community. Who cares about documenting the end of the world anymore? I just care about surviving and building now. Getting what’s mine and protecting my people.

Speaking of which, Frank and his merry band of assholes are really pissing me off. Fucking scumbags are harassing literally anything with tits and a pulse at this point. And since I just can’t leave well enough alone, I think it’s time that I sent an expedition out to Falling Creek.

They leave in the morning.

* * *

 

**May 1**

I dreamed about Alan last night. It’s the first time I’ve dreamed about Falling Creek since I left.

We were back in the church again. He was still holding his flashlight and everything looked just how I remembered it from the night he showed me the drawing. Except for one thing, and I’m shaking thinking about it.

I looked at the wall and it wasn’t the same picture as before. Now it looked more like me.

Fuck it. It was me. I’m sure it was.

I turned back to Alan to ask him what made the drawing change, and when I did he was looking right at me. His eyes were pure white like the dead fucks, and I watched his skin slowly begin to rot on his body.

But as it did, he spoke:

_“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”_

I woke up screaming.

This is over.

Fuck Falling Creek. Fuck Gail. Fuck whatever is in those woods.

Alan was right: It’s not for me to understand.

I don’t know what was in those woods with us. I don’t know if it was his monster, or just plan, old-fashioned human evil. But I never want to experience it again.

I’m taking my fucking eyes off of the abyss. Falling Creek is a dead zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth and final part of my contribution to ladylorelitanyfanfiction‘s Monster Mash Challenge. I hope that you all enjoyed it. This is my first attempt writing something legitimately horror-based, so let me know how I did. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a multi-chapter fic for ladylorelitany’s Monster Mash challenge. It took me a little longer than usual to write this because life has been so hectic lately, and it’s put quite a halt to my writing. My partner and I have had a streak of bad luck, that has finally turned the corner (yay!). It’s almost creepy that I am writing under the prompt “Wendigo” while this is happening, because it is typically thought that to even think about these creatures too deeply is to invite misfortune. Spooky stuff!


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